


Pups and Whelps

by Shadow_Belle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Daddy!Sandor, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-07
Updated: 2011-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-25 19:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Belle/pseuds/Shadow_Belle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sandor didn’t understand why the Seven chose to give him daughters. Women were as strange to him as a fish was to land. He liked it better when they were puppies. Even when they were tiny, pink yelping things. They were basic then. Eat. Sleep. Shite. He could do that. He understood that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pups and Whelps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redcandle17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/gifts).



Sandor Clegane had come to the conclusion that someone was going to see the Stranger—and he didn’t mean his horse.

He hadn’t decided if he would twist the boy’s head from his shoulders with his bare hands, beat him until he couldn’t raise his fists, or simply run him through. Each had their merits. Twisting his head off would be highly satisfying, but it wouldn’t last long enough. Beating him to death could possibly take too long, depending on the boy’s stamina. Running him through would be immediate gratification, but a little too immediate. Time was of the essence though because if Sansa caught him, she’d make him stop.

He grit his teeth. Little Targaryen bastard was going to see the godsdamned dragon in the sky if he made his precious little Catelyn cry again. Prince or no.

“Father?” a soft voice interrupted his plotting.

“Yes, birdling?” He looked at his daughter and her gray eyes were wide and tremulous, her black hair a curtain over her brow.

“You are a man, so you must know. Why doesn’t he love me?”

By the Stranger’s Rod, what a fucking question. This was Sansa’s specialty. All Sandor could do was buy her sweets or tell her the best place to stick her dagger. And not to pull on Bugger That, Bugger Him, or Bugger You’s tails. The dogs were understanding, but not _that_ understanding.

She crept over to him and crawled up in his lap like she’d done when she was pup and tucked her head beneath his chin. Her thin shoulders seemed so delicate and breakable. She was so tiny, it was like she was still a child.

But he knew the world considered her a woman now. And for all that, she’d always be his little birdling.  
He had no idea what to say. “Because he is unworthy of you, little one.”

For a second he thought she was crying again and if she was, that was it. That was the bone that broke the direwolf. He’d grind his face into little pieces.

“But he’s a prince. How can he be unworthy of me?”

“I think you know this story already,” he said, referring to what happened between Sansa and Joffrey and how his little bird came to be his.

“I know, but I thought the Good Dragon Queen would have a good son.”

“He’s a child, Catelyn. A boy. He has much to learn.” Which meant he probably couldn’t kill him after all. But he still wanted to.

“But I love him. He should love me. The stories say so.”

Ah, the bloody damn stories again. He rolled his eyes. “Men aren’t like stories, pumpkin.”

“No? Mother says they are. She says that you are more noble than any knight or storybook prince. She says that you are the bar by which I should measure all men.”

The thought of a man like him getting anywhere near his precious Catelyn set his teeth on edge.

“Like hell.”

Catelyn laughed then, a pretty little musical sound. “Mother said you’d say that too.”

“There is no man in the Seven Kingdoms worthy of you. No knight, no prince, no king.”

She hugged him and slid off his lap, running to the window. The pitiful sounds of badly tuned lyre rattled up into the room and the voice of a boy whose nuts had yet to drop echoed in a poor rendition of some shite ballad.

Catelyn peered outside, keeping herself to the side of the open window so the singer couldn’t see her. Her hand fluttered up her chest, just as Sansa did when she was incredibly moved by something.

Damn if it wasn’t the little prince in all his finery crowing out a song to win the forgiveness of his ladylove.  
Sandor slammed the window closed so hard the glass panes crashed out of the frame and shattered on the floor. Too bad it wasn’t the damned boy’s head.

Catelyn looked up at him then, a plea written on her fey features. “He _does_ love me,” she half-whispered, half-shrieked.

Sandor didn’t understand why the Seven chose to give him daughters. Women were as strange to him as a fish was t land. He liked it better when they were puppies. Even when they were tiny, pink yelping things. They were basic then. Eat. Sleep. Shite. He could do that. He understood that.

He remembered Catelyn in his arms, pulling on his hair to sit up, her sweet chubby fingers all over his face. Now this… this… man-boy was here and he was going to take her away from him. Make her a woman and a queen.  
“Sandor!” Sansa hissed from the open door, interrupting his trough of self-pity. “Leave them alone.”

“No,” he hissed back. “He made her cry.”

“It won’t be the last time. He’s male. He’s bound to say something stupid again. Come away,” she demanded.

He narrowed his eyes. Oh, he’d already decided it would, in fact, be the last time. Yes, it would.

“I know what you’re thinking. You will not hurt that boy. Now, come here.”

He squared his jaw and set his mouth in a hard line. Absolutely not.

Sansa raised a brow and pulled the neckline of her dress low to show him her rounded teat. Even swollen as she was with another pup, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Coming?” she asked playfully.

He would have answered “not yet,” with a smirk if Catelyn hadn’t been in the room. Then his eyes narrowed again as he thought of any man saying the things to his daughter he said to Sansa.

“You have five other daughters. Are you going to be like this with all of them?” Sansa laughed and grabbed his hand to tug him out of the room.

He followed dutifully. And he couldn’t even say he didn’t like it when she brought him to heel. He did. But that…boy. And his birdling. It was just wrong. He’d been confident his reputation would scare away any suitors, but Sansa had to go and make nice with the Dragon Queen. Like sisters, they were.

He growled.

“Stop that or I shall slap you on the nose like I do Bugger That. Which I did earlier for chewing up my new shoes. He really is a little turd. They all are. But that’s what you get for naming dogs bugger anything,” she admonished as she walked, swaying her round little arse. “Now come here and make love to me. I’m ready to have these pups.”

Later, as he was obliging his wife, it occurred to him she’d said pups, as in, more than one. If he hadn’t been balls deep, he might have fallen over dead.


End file.
